


Who He Truly Was

by ladyoneill



Series: Lady O's Teen Wolf Bingo Stories [38]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-06
Updated: 2014-04-06
Packaged: 2018-01-18 08:23:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1421341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyoneill/pseuds/ladyoneill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Broken by so very much, Peter finds his own end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Who He Truly Was

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Dissociative](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1243300) by [ladyoneill](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyoneill/pseuds/ladyoneill). 



> Written for Trope Bingo prompt: deathfic and as a sequel to "Dissociative".

Derek finds him deep in the Preserve, curled beneath a tall oak, the gun on his chest partially obscuring the blackened wound over his heart, his fingers still on the trigger, clenched tightly in rigor.

At the sight, there's sadness--a deep sadness--and guilt, but also relief. Those moments when he lived purely in the past were growing fewer and fewer. Mostly Peter was confused and hurting, lost and crying out for people long dead. The worst times were when he remembered everything--the fire, the loss of his family and his mate, the years of catatonia and constant agony as his body healed cell by cell.

The madness and murder of Laura.

Those were times he begged Derek to either make him forget or, again, slit his throat and end him.

Derek couldn't do either, so, somehow Peter found a way.

Even from several feet away he can smell the wolfsbane in the wound. He knows Peter had to have had help obtaining the gun and bullet, but he'll never press. Whomever assisted him did what Derek couldn't bring himself to.

As he drops to his knees and reaches a trembling hand to close those once vibrant and long dulled blue eyes, he can't help but wonder if a part of him kept Peter alive as punishment for both of them.

Peter killed his sister, destroyed the family bond between nephew and uncle, caused so much misery.

And all of that because Derek was stupid enough to let a pretty face seduce him into giving her all his family's secrets.

The phone in his jacket pocket chimes and he supposes he should answer it--he's not the only one looking for Peter--but he's not ready to talk to anyone, face anyone. Instead, he turns and sits, leaning back against the tree next to his uncle's cooling body and, he wonders, if there is an afterlife, is he with the Pack, running as a wolf through the woods? Is he with Marta who died from smoke inhalation, taking with her in her womb their first cub? Is he nuzzling up to his sister Alpha, forgiven for everything?

Derek hopes so. He hopes that, in death, all sins are truly forgiven, that there is no Hell. Peter's life for eight years was Hell; he deserves peace and comfort.

Because...because, if Derek can truly believe that, then there's hope for him as well. Hope that he'll be welcomed into the arms of his parents, his grandmother, his own sister Alpha. That he'll romp with his sibling and cousins through fields and forests forever.

Closing his eyes, Derek lets his mind drift to times past, happy moments spent with his uncle when they were more friends than family. Peter taught him how to hunt, how to scent out small game and take them down with fangs and claws, then gut and skin them for the dinner pot. He taught him how to flirt with girls and shoot hoops and gave him his one and only cigarette, just grinning but not laughing when he choked on the acrid smoke.

He remembers standing next to him as his best man for the human wedding ceremony--Derek young and itchy in his suit at twelve; Peter looking so very happy with his choice of mate just eight years older; and Marta glowing in white lace, though the whole Pack knew the two had anticipated the wedding night.

Opening his eyes again, he finds there are tears there and he brushes them away before looking down at Peter. For the first time since the fire, he looks young, the lines of strain and deep-seated anger gone from his face. When he returned to Beacon Hills for the first time in six years, Derek was shocked at how old his uncle looked. Peter was only twenty-four when he was so badly burned, thirty when he became Alpha, but the fire aged him a decade at least. All the suffering to heal, the madness that broke him, they took their toll.

Now, all of that is gone, meaningless.

And Derek realizes his lingering anger and bitterness need to be gone, too, because they're just as meaningless.

His uncle is dead.

Derek needs to live.

End


End file.
